


Awkward Walk In

by LadybugsFanfics



Category: Real Person Fiction
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Insomnia, hopefully funny, uncomfortableness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-14
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2021-02-18 07:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21757504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadybugsFanfics/pseuds/LadybugsFanfics
Summary: My neighbour’s sibling got the wrong house number and barged into my apartment on accident.Prompt source
Relationships: Emma Hiddleston & Reader, Jack Blakiston-Houston/Emma Hiddleston, Tom Hiddleston/Reader
Kudos: 22





	Awkward Walk In

“… _like you’re always stuck in second gear. When it hasn’t been your day, your week, your month, or even your year, but I’ll be there for you_.” 

The _Friends_ theme song plays in the background as you finish making your sandwich. After a long week, it’s finally time to just sit down on your couch, watch some ‘in-the-background’ TV and just relax. 

You sit down, snuggle up under a blanket and pull your plate up to under your chin as to not litter crumbs. Something easy to eat on a friday night is just perfect―not that it is night yet, it’s like five PM. 

Despite having the TV on, it’s really not that interesting and after you’re done eating you end up scrolling through your phone. Nothing is really going on, with the exception of everyone talking about the new Spider-Man movie (which you saw on the premiere). 

Friday nights are especially boring when there’s nothing to do. Your friends are all busy so there would be no get together (to be frank, sometimes a night on the couch was rather nice and you would’ve thought that was what you needed after your week, but… life has other ideas). There are your neighbors, one of which you’d grown rather close to and hung out with on occasions. The catch; her older brother is coming to town and he’s rarely home because of his work and she’d said maybe you could come over once but he would probably say no. 

So, you’re left to watch TV or read for the rest of the evening. Or maybe, left to scroll through social media. A shower sounds like a good idea, though. Or maybe a bath―you don’t have a bathtub though which complicates that last one. 

Therefore, it ends with a shower. You use rather a long time to take it. The hot water on your skin cleanses the stress; the little head massage you use to get the shampoo all in is just the perfect thing; taking the time to shave actually felt nice for once. To be able to not rush was perfect. 

Not having taken with you any clothes to when you’re done, you make sure you’re completely dry before getting out and going to your closet. Since you’re not doing anything other than slouch on the couch, you decide to skip taking on a bra―what’s the point they’re just annoying. 

You’ve managed to take on a pair of boxers (it’s way comfortable) before you’re door bursts open and a tall, handsome male comes in. “I’m really sorry I’m late―” He stops mid sentence and you’ve barely managed to react with anything but slowly cover your boobs. 

“I think you’re in the wrong apartment,” you say. How you can possibly be this calm―because the man has practically seen you _naked!_ ―you don’t know. To be honest, you had imagined it on multiple occasions as a chance meeting, but you’d never thought it could ever happen. Of course, the difference between those little dreams were the little sex ending, but that’s not really the whole big deal, right?

He flushes red, looks around and nods. “I think you might be correct. Do you know where Emma Hiddleston lives?”

You nod. “Yeah. She’s the apartment across the hall.” _So this is the older brother, mind you, Emma, did you maybe do this on purpose?_ The girl had mentioned that he was single on more than one occasion; maybe she had hinted to something. 

“She must’ve pressed the wrong number, probably,” he said. He purses his lips and nods again, but he doesn’t leave. 

“Weren’t you late?” you ask, hoping that you can stop covering your breasts, get on some clothes and text Emma that she better have a good excuse. 

His eyes widen and he nods. “Yes, I am. Again, so sorry.” And then he turns and leaves, closing the door after him. 

You sigh and put on some clothes―a big t-shirt and some ‘sweater shorts’ as you like to call them. Basically shorts but really baggy and kind of cute and highly comfortable. Having clothes on, you turn the lock on your door so no one can suddenly burst into your apartment again. You also make a mental note to always do that. 

You take a last trip to the bathroom, getting your glasses―no twenty-twenty vision here―and finally get down to the couch to sit and watch some more Netflix. Whilst more episodes of _Friends_ play in the background, you find Emma’s number in your contacts. 

**You:** _Emma! Emma! EMMA!_

Surprisingly, she replies right away. 

**Emma:** _What? Something wrong?_

**You:** _Yes! Very much so, and I would prefer not to do this over phone but youre brothers visiting you so like, this might be my only option!_

**Emma:** _Hes busy, I can come over for like five minutes_

**You:** _Then come!_

You stand up and lock open the door. It takes another ten seconds before Emma opens it and comes inside. She looks at you expectantly. “What’s going on?”

You take a deep breath. “Your brother. He’s tall, kinda good looking, wears like a blue jacket, I don’t know brands but I think like Ralph Lauren? And like black jeans and a white tee?”

Emma nods. “How… how do you know this?” She shakes her head. “You haven’t even seen any of his movies.”

“Nope, still haven’t. Uh, just he kind of came into my apartment,” you say. You look down at your feet and mumble, “and I was wearing only boxers.”

“No!” She practically yells. “No. He did no…” Emma looks at you incredibly, seeming to have lost her voice. 

“Yeah, that happened.” You nod slowly. “He’s hot, though,” you add and shrug. 

Emma playfully hits your arm. “Fuck,” she says. “Just… don’t tell me if you two start dating, please. He’s amazing and you couldn’t do better but it would be so weird.”

You let out a laugh. “I don’t think you have to worry about that.”

“Don’t be so sure. I know you’re his type.” She gives you a small, pained smile and leaves. And all you can think about for the rest of the night, is her little _I know you’re his type_. 

> __________

For the _n_ th time you check the clock. 12.39 AM. Netflix has stopped with the _‘Are you still watching?’_ question. Shrugging halfheartedly, you press continue and watch another episode. It’s Friday night, you’ve got nothing planned all weekend. It can’t hurt. 

Well, it _can_. You’ve already fallen asleep three times. It’s safe to say you’re tired, you just don’t want to move from the couch, nor do you want to actually go to bed. Sounds tempting, but really, you don’t feel like it. 

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

You frown at your door. Who the hell knocks on someone’s door an hour after midnight? Nevertheless, you feel intrigued and move to open it. Since it’s so late, it’s a shame you don’t have a peephole, who knows what the person on the other side wants?

So, you have other means to figure out. “Uh, who is it?” 

There’s a shuffle on the other side. A light cough. “It’s, uhh, the male from earlier.”

Your eyes widen, but knowing it’s Emma’s older brother, you don’t fear his intentions. The lock turns with a click and you open the door to see said male nervously staring at his feet. He’s lost the jacket he had the first time you met. This way, you could see the white tee cling to his torso in ways you hadn’t expected. 

He looks up at you. “Did I wake you? Emma said you usually stay up late on weekends and I felt for, uh,” he scratches his neck, “apollogizing.”

“No, you didn’t wake me.” You open the door further. “Come in, maybe we can talk it out so it isn’t so awkward.” _What the fuck is happening to me? Since when did I get so smooth? I’ve never been smooth? This guy is hot as fuck and I’m not even stuttering? Or blushing? Or anything else to signal he’s nice?_ Your mind races with questions on how the hell you can be calm; there is no way this isn’t a dream. 

“Okay.” He steps inside and you close the door after him. “I am really sorry. Emma saw her mistake after you told her. Though, to be honest, she might have done it on purpose.”

You smile at him. “It’s fine. And I’m sure she did.” You walk to the kitchen. “Can I offer anything to drink?”

“Water is fine,” he says.

“No, don’t be silly. I have wine?” You take two glasses out of the cupboard. _Where is this confidence coming from?_

Emma’s brother comes closer. “I guess I don’t have a choice,” he replies. 

You nod. “Correct. By the way, not sure if Emma told you, but name’s Y/N.” You pour two glasses and put the bottle back into the fridge. 

“No, she didn’t. Nice to meet you, Y/N. I’m Tom,” he says and accepts the glass you hand him. As he says your name, you can’t help but feel it roll of his tongue rather perfectly. 

You take a sip of wine. “So, wanna sit?” You point to the couch. “I’ll turn off the TV, too, maybe.” A chuckle escapes as you make to do just that. The remote control, on the other hand, doesn’t agree because you can’t find it. 

“Looking for this?” Tom asks and waves the remote your way. You nod, take it from him and turn of the TV. 

“Thanks,” you say. Despite your confidence (like what’s happening; you’re even wearing sweater shorts, an oversized t-shirt and no bra) from before, the air hangs for a while. You quietly sit and sip your wine. Tom does the same.

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea? No, screw it, you’re gonna do this. Maybe life will take a turn for the better. 

You set down your glass on the coffee table. “Sorry about the mess,” you say, noticing that it is, in fact, not clean at all anywhere. 

“That’s fine,” replies Tom. “Not like you knew I would come.”

“Yeah. It’s like one am so can’t say I expected company,” you say. “But I don’t mind. Don’t really have anything better to do either. Maybe sleep, but I wasn’t gonna do that.”

Tom chuckles. “You sound like a college student,” he says. “Or just maybe someone who struggles with sleeping.”

You nod. “You’re looking at an insomniac, yup.”

“You have any help?” he asks. 

“Tried a lot of things, nothing’s worked so far.” You tuck your feet under you, turning more of your body towards Tom. “Kinda given up now.”

Tom takes a sip of wine. “Sorry to hear that.” Then he straightens up and puts down the glass. “Anyways, it’s late and I came here to apologize so that’s what I’ll do.”

You let out a small laugh. “I’m more than ready to hear this,” you say. 

“I am really sorry I barged in. Really, there is no excuse. Usually, I knock, but Emma told me a long time ago to just walk straight in, and I was already late―she cooked and it was cold when I actually could eat it―and I don’t know any other words to use other than sorry. It is probably the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever done.”

You smile, finding him rather cute in his explaining. “Don’t worry about it,” you reply. “You didn’t see anything? At least, like a lot of anything?”

He blushes. _Oh, my god! What a cute blush!_ “I might’ve seen something. But really, you have nothing to be embarrassed about, you are really beautiful.”

“O.M.G. Some movie star called me beautiful,” you say, and smile at him. “Thanks. Don’t know how I stayed calm during it all, but there’s a lot I do I can’t explain.”

He lets out a laugh, this little ‘hehe’ sound, and his mouth draws into a big smile. You can’t not look at his lips as his tongue graces over the lower one. “Well, as someone who’s not an insomniac, it’s getting late and I have a couch waiting for me.” Tom stands up and smiles. “Thanks for the chat, and for being this cool about me barging in on you.”

Your eyes crinkle as you smile at him. “You’re welcome. Don’t hesitate to come by again.” You stand up to follow him out―not that that’s necessary since it’s two meters from the couch to the door, but there’s something in the gesture. 

“I won’t,” he says and slips out. 

You lock the door behind him, sigh and bite your lip. _God, he’s…. something._

> __________

The sunlight shines through your blinds, basking your apartment in an orange-gold filter. You groggily turn around, drag the cover over your head and press your eyes shut in a desperate attempt to continue sleeping. It’s futile. 

You throw the cover away and turn around on your back, looking up into the ceiling. Annoyed you blow away the hair covering your face and let out a tired sigh. You check the clock. 11.00 AM. _God, it’s way too early_. 

After Tom left, the clock being one am, you’d turned on the TV again. Not before four am had you actually gone to bed. Only to lie there for an eternity trying to find the right position, the right temperature―cover here or not? Yes, but not there. Fuck, like that one spot doesn’t need it, get off (that one spot was like on your leg and that’s hard to not have a cover over when the rest of your leg needs one. And, yeah, with a mind racing over endless possibilities of the future days, angst filled possibilities.

Safe to say, you’d probably gotten a good five hours of sleep. Six if you’re lucky. There goes the hope of sleeping in. 

Even though you’re awake, instead of getting out of a warm and comfy bed, you find your phone on the nightstand and start to scroll through instagram. Nothing really special had happened since you’d done the exact same thing at two in the morning, but there is still something to it. Being bored, tumblr seems the better place, though. 

Instead of the usual feed scroll and trending scroll, you decide to do some research. In the search bar you type in his name. _Tom Hiddleston._

The first thing that came up is a gifset of said man with longer black hair, slicked back to reveal his ears. Scrolling further down you can see it’s how he looks playing Loki. Something goes off inside you, an alarm of a kind. If he plays Loki―everything’s tagged with marvel―that means he has to be pretty popular. 

Most of what you see, is of him playing Loki. More gifsets, some text post you don’t bother reading―you haven’t seen the movie it’s about so what’s the point―Benedict Cumberbatch’s name pops up (nice, you’ve seen Sherlock) and then there’s a picture of Tom, but different than the one you met. Instead of curly, grown hair and a beard, in the photo he has shorter hair with small curls at the top and the start of a beard-growth. He looks pretty damn good. You double tap and see the heart come up. 

After about an hour or so of scrolling through tumblr (you stopped with the Tom tag after awhile, maybe rather get to know him?), you decide to get out of bed. It takes strength you don’t really have and the trip into the kitchen to get something to drink is a lot longer than you remembered. 

You sigh as you take the time to make coffee. As it brews, you open your fridge to check the contents. Although you were in the store yesterday after work so as to not have to today, you still don’t really feel like anything in it seems like breakfast food. Pretty annoyingly, your gut growls. _Fuck_ , you think and make a grimace as you peek further inside. There’s not even any leftovers to heat up and eat. Everything has to be made. 

“Argg.” You take a deep breath and let out a sigh, one where your lips flap and a small, annoyed sound, comes out. Without much choice, you decide that coffee alone is breakfast and take with you a cup and settle into the couch. The wine glasses you and Tom drank of yesterday are still there. 

Another sigh escapes your lips (looks like it’s one of those days) as you turn on the TV, let your head fall back and think about everything you should be doing but probably won’t do. Much of that is cleaning. 

> __________

“Hey, Y/N.” It pounds on your door as you hear Emma’s voice. You turn down the music from your speaker as you make your way there. Despite previous statements of not going to clean, that is exactly what you’re doing. Currently, it’s the bathroom and it sucks. 

You open the door to a casually dressed Emma. She gives you a smile and a frown. “What’s up?” you ask. 

She eyes you from top to toe. “What are you doing?” she asks, the confusion spread across her face to highlight it. 

“Cleaning,” you reply shortly. 

She lets out a huff. “Okay, well, I was wondering if you wanted to join me, Jack and Tom out for lunch?” she asks. 

“Going out means I have to change, I have to stop cleaning the bathroom and I have to actually go out.” You nod as you list the things. “As much as I would like to not clean, I kind of feel like I have to see this through and I don’t really want to go out, so no thanks on lunch. What about dinner? Tonight, here? It’ll be clean.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Fine, but like, don’t cook. Order.”

You give her an offended stare. “I can cook,” you say. “I won’t though because I don’t have the food for four people in here, but I can cook. You’ve tasted my food.”

“I’ve tasted your brownies. They’re heaven on earth, but I haven’t tasted anything else and since you’re the person who’s made the fire alarm go most in this building I don’t trust you.” She laughs. 

“I haven’t done that in three months,” you defend. 

“Yeah, and that’s not something to be proud of.”

“Well, to me it’s got to be some sort of record, so like, are you sure I’m not going to be proud?” Before she can answer you wave it away. “Anyway, dinner here at eight? Pizza sound fine?”

She nods. “Yup, no weird things. No pineapple,” she says and points at you strictly. 

“You got it. Text me what you guys want on and how hungry you are, please. Two big ones sounds fine, yeah?”

“Honestly, I’ll just text you toppings and it’ll probably be fine. We’ll bring something to drink, though.” She raises a brow at you. 

“Good ‘cause I got like wine, and that’s it.”

“Water?” 

You wave at her. “Doesn’t count.”

She shakes her head at you and smiles. “See you tonight.”

“Bye.”

> __________

_07.27 PM_. _Finally done._

You look at what was before a Mess™ and smile at the relaxation that falls upon the room. The coffee table is clean, only a book and a napkin holder―now full―on it. The kitchen, which has a dining room table, has no leftover dishes to do or old bread sitting on the counter collecting dust. The chair in the corner, also by your wardrobe that doesn’t fit in your bedroom, is finally free to use and not covered in clothes. And, the biggest ‘wow’ of all, your bed is made. 

The only thing not done is ordering pizza and getting dressed. You do the ordering first; two big pizzas with ham and pepperoni―the trio coming over didn’t have any preferences so you decide to go with something you know pretty much everyone likes. You also order dressing on the side. 

And then, with about fifteen minutes to spare, you go around to change. You should’ve taken a shower, but instead it becomes a last minute wash with a cloth and soap. Of course, the biggest question of all is what to wear. A very handsome guy you would like to fuck is coming over, but so is his sister and her husband and they’re your friends. How to be respectable and also tease the guy who has seen your boobs?

In the end, you end up wearing a pair of white, high-waist shorts (it’s summer) with a black belt that all around has holes in it and looks rather edgy and cool. With it, you go with a black crop top that accentuates your boobs but doesn’t look too much, and with that, you put on a flannel hooded jacket because you’ve had it forever and it looks great, plus takes away some of the flirty part of the look you know Emma won’t approve of. 

When you’re done the clock strikes 8.03. You find something to pay for pizza with, putting it in your pocket to make the whole ordeal easier, and you take out some dishes and―despite it being a disgrace―put out a fork and knife because who knows. You also find some glasses that you set the table with (not wine glasses, however you do have more of those than the ones you do use). 

And by that time, there’s a knock on the door. 

With nothing that can be called grace, you open the door and let the three in. Neither of them is wearing anything more fancy than you, but you do feel underdressed in some way. Emma wears a pair of blue jeans and a white tee with a denim jacket over. Jack has a pair of black jeans a white tee, no jacket. Tom, _fuck_ , wears a pair of black jeans with a shirt that fits tightly to his chest, no tie and the top button opened―just the best freaking way to elude sexiness. 

Emma shakes her head at your outfit and Jack tries to hide a laugh as both of you catches Tom giving you a once over. After that, the difference in outfits doesn’t bother you as much; you got the reaction you wanted. 

“Pizza isn’t here yet, but it should be here any minute now,” you say and open up for them to come inside. 

Emma hands you a bag. “Soda, mostly, with a little surprise. And that’s totally okay,” she says as you take it. “But I hope it comes fast because I am hungry.”

Jack and Tom both nod in agreement. 

“Good, because I am, too,” you say. “Can I get you something to drink while we wait? I got what’s in the bag and wine.” You shuffle your way to the kitchen, putting the bottles in the fridge so they can keep the cold. 

“What about water?” asks Tom. 

You shake your head. “I don’t have that.” 

“What’s this then?” The man steps up to your sink and turns on the water. Perfectly fine drinking water comes out of the tap. 

“No,” you say, and turn it off. “There’s a rule that guests aren’t allowed to drink water because I want to be fancy.” 

Both Emma and Jack laugh at that, and you notice Tom trying to keep his cool but failing a bit. 

“Good luck with that,” says Emma and sits down. 

“Thanks. It’s worked so far.” You smile at her. Your phone vibrates in your pocket. “Ey, pizza’s here. Help yourself to the drinks, I’ll be right back.” You motion to the fridge and go off to get the pizza. 

You hope Tom doesn’t think you an absolute fool for saying no to water, but to be honest, you have no idea. 

> __________

“The worst part is that time you came to me for a band aid because you’d cut yourself at a pack of cheese,” says Emma and laughs. 

You stare wide eyed at her. “Why would you say that?” you hiss through gritted teeth. 

Neither Tom nor Jack manage to keep their laughter. “How?” asks Jack. 

“I don’t know. I just did it,” you reply, throwing your hands into the air. “I think it was about to fall of the counter and when I saved it I cut myself on, like, the hard part of it, one of the edges.”

“Still counts to your clumsiness,” says Emma. “What more could you have done?”

You sigh and busy yourself with one of the leftover slices of pizza. It’s grown cold, but it helps in not wanting to focus on Emma’s dead set mind on embarrassing you. 

“Oh!” She lights up. “I have another one, but it’s not about Y/N.” She turns to her brother with a smirk. “It’s about Tom.”

He sinks down in his chair and mutter an ‘oh God’ as Emma starts talking. 

“We were kids, don’t remember exactly how old, but I think I was around nine, making you fourteen.” You see on Tom’s face that he knows what she’s about to tell. “It was summer vacation and, uhh, we were at the beach. The only reason he and Sarah agreed to take me with them was because Mum promised they’d get another day without me. Tom, being his lovely teenager self, thought himself rather handsome and tried to pick up this girl. Only problem is he wasn’t as smooth as he’d like to imagine, and as the two of them walked into the water, instead of walking, he tripped over his own feet and fell face first. When he got up, he had a cut up his arm and the girl, who could’ve helped him, rolled her eyes and walked away.”

Tom sinks further down in his chair. “Why did you have to tell _that_ story?” he asks and sends Emma a typical sibling glare, which Emma returns with a typical sibling smile saying ‘I know you love me’. 

You giggle at the story, not being able to keep the laughter in. “Well, now we have stories about me, Tom and Jack. Where are all the stories about Emma?” You raise a brow at the two people who knows her the best. 

Both men look down and make faces, probably in thought. Jack looks up first. “I have none. I know she’s suddenly had a band aid somewhere but she won’t ever tell why.”

Emma smiles devilishly. You actually recognize it as similar to one of the gifs of Loki you saw on tumblr. _Maybe there’s some of that in the_ actual _Tom as well_ , you think and bite your lower lip. 

“I have stories of our childhood, but none are really that embarrassing. Rather, I have one that she doesn’t remember, but all she really did was run around naked in our garden with the neighbour boy. We have video, though, that makes it better. But she was three years old, that doesn’t count for embarrassment.” Tom smiles, but it’s rather fond than anything else. 

“This sucks. She knows so much and we know nothing,” you say and squint at the girl across the table.

The girl just smiles widely. “Anyways, it’s getting late,” she says, looking at the clock. You do the same, seeing the long handle on eleven and the little one nearly on twelve. That was four hours around the same table, just chatting. Huh, how time passes when you’re having fun. 

“I hadn’t even realised,” says Tom. You all get out of your chair, and―old habits die hard―you take the dishes with you to the sink. Tom helps by taking the glasses, putting them down beside you. “I had fun,” he says, voice low and near inaudible. 

You nod. “Yeah, me too.” You shoot him a smile and get back to following the three out of your apartment. At least they don’t have a long ride or anything so there’s no feeling guilty for it being so long. 

“This was great. Gotta do this more often,” Emma says and gives you a hug goodbye. Jack nods in agreement and does the same. 

“We should. But let’s take it at your place because cleaning this shithole took more energy than I anticipated.” You let out a laugh and smile at them. 

Emma chuckles. “Yeah, sure. But an excuse for you to clean really is all you need to clean, right?”

You shake your head, annoyed at her constant correctness. “Get out, okay? It’s been a long day.” 

She smiles and the two of them walk over, giving slight room for Tom to say goodbye on his own. 

He stops by the door, leaning against the wall with a cheeky smile. “I would love to join the time you do this again,” he says. 

“Yeah,” you nod, “it was a lot of fun having you here. Wish you’d had more stories of Emma, though. She needs to be brought down a notch.” 

He laughs. The same ‘hehe’ from the night before. His mouth draws into a wide grin, though the tongue doesn’t appear. “I’ll see what I can do. There’s always Sarah, and Mum.”

“Yeah, your mother probably has the best stories though. Mother’s have a flair for that.” You smile at him. “Guess I’ll see you when you leave here, right?”

“Of course. I won’t leave without a goodbye.” His eyes crinkle as his mouth draws into a softer smile. “Will you be able to sleep when I go? Now, not leave-leave.”

You shrug. “Don’t know. Why?”

“I’m not feeling very tired, thought I could keep you with company if you wanted,” he says. 

“Never gonna say no to that. Now it’s clean after all.” You smile at him, and the tall man closes the door to your apartment from the inside. “What would you like to do? And can I offer you more to drink?”

He chuckles. “Whatever you feel like doing is fine by me, and perhaps, a glass of wine?” 

“Done, and done.”

> __________

You’re not really sure how you ended up in the position, but you’re sitting cozily in the crook of Tom’s arm. Surprisingly, with his toned chest, he is still rather soft to lie upon. The TV plays in the background, but you don’t focus on it. Instead, you’re focused on Tom.. How his hand mindlessly plays with yours. How his breathing is even and the quiet thump-thump of his heart. How he seems so focused on the screen when nothing really interesting actually happens. 

But, having been deprived of cuddles and the like for so long, you welcome it all with no questions. 

“It’s getting late.” His voice speaks softly in your ear, his breath cold on your neck. 

“Yeah,” you reply. 

Neither of you get up. Neither turns off the TV. Neither says anything more. 

> __________

For the first time in ages, you wake up feeling rested, feeling like you’ve gotten enough sleep. Groggily opening your eyes, you notice you’re in your bed. The last thing you can remember from the night before is lying in Tom’s embrace, changing a position so you can rest your head in his lap (on top of a pillow) and his long fingers gently combing through your hair. 

You smile at the thought of him carrying you into your room, and also look around for him. Who’s to say he didn’t stay? But he’s not there. 

Checking the clock and seeing it say 02.07 PM makes that more than understandable. Not only do you feel rested but you’ve actually managed to sleep in. Despite how good it feels, you can’t help but question it; Why now? And what did I do differently? 

You don’t have the answer to the questions and instead of pondering it further, you get out of the bed and drag yourself into the kitchen. There, on the other hand, you find Tom with a cup of coffee and his phone. He looks up as he hears you. 

“Good morning,” he says, “feeling okay?”

You nod, not sure if your voice actually works just yet. 

He chuckles. “I took the couch, if you wondered,” he adds. 

So he’d slept over. That’s something to note. But, you’d fallen asleep on him, why would he see it a problem to join you in bed? You would literally only sleep. Maybe he felt he would impose, it is an awfully small bed for two people. 

“You’re sure Emma isn’t worried about you? You came to see her, right?” You finally found your voice, and a cup of coffee is quickly in your hands as you ask. 

“She knocked on the door this morning and asked. I believe the only thing she was actually worried about was if we would,” he blushes, “do something.”

You sip the warm liquid. “Really? So, what about the coming-to-see-her part?”

“I saw her all Friday, all yesterday and I will probably see her today as well,” he replies. “And, well, I have to make up for walking in on you somehow. I believe keeping you company does that.”

“Thanks for that, by the way.” You sit down in the chair across from him. “Actually feel like I’ve gotten some sleep for once.”

His smile widens. “That’s good. Me as a pillow worked?” He purses his lips, sticks his tongue out for a quick walk (honestly, he has to stop). 

“Yeah, that worked. How long are you staying? You leaving today?” 

“I’m staying another couple of nights. Leaving Tuesday, why?” 

You take a bigger sip of the coffee, feeling in need of some boost. “I was thinking,” you start and avert your gaze from him, “if you’re not busy during the night, that maybe you could be my pillow again.”

His eyes wrinkle as he smiles at you, this genuine god-awful kind smile that makes it hard to swallow, hard not to look at him. “For as long as I’m here, I’ll happily be your pillow.”


End file.
